


If only. Those must be the two saddest words in the world.

by Okumen



Category: Black Clover - 田畠裕基 | Tabata Yuki
Genre: Black Clover Secret Santa 2018, M/M, Manga Spoilers, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 07:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17157998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okumen/pseuds/Okumen
Summary: It was something that must have surely happened over time, perhaps even starting from the moment that they met, growing in strength until one day, it suddenly dawned on him with the power to cause an ache in his chest. He thought many times, that things would have been so much easier if he had never realized it.





	If only. Those must be the two saddest words in the world.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollyfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyfish/gifts).



> This is one part of my secret santa gift for Nics, the other one is a [picture of Langris](https://twitter.com/DazedBird/status/1077633504177999872) because I could not fit him into the fic properly though I wanted to.

Technically, you could say that his first kiss was very undramatic even though it was a surprise, and confusing. It was at the end of a captain’s meeting, he had been trailing a little after the others toward the door and had been deep in thought when he had been stopped by the sound of his name being called. There was a hand touching his chin, tipping his head back, lips pressing against his own. They remained there for only a couple seconds, and William stared up at Yami with wide eyes as Yami pulled away. 

When he did, Yami just made a thoughtful, rumbling sound instead of actually saying something, or explaining himself. William was too shocked to ask what he did that for- And during the few seconds that it took for William to collect himself at least somewhat, Yami left the room, mumbling something about a magic carpet. William stood watching the door the man had left through, fingers twitching in a desire to touch his burning lips.

Eventually he was able to pull himself from the room though not from his thoughts, and William found his vice captain, irritated with something—possibly by his brother’s presence, assuming he had been waiting for the meeting to end for Yami, though William was unable to relate—pacing outside the room with an urgent report, which effectively served to distract him far into the morning hours. It was a relief, but once he retreated to bed, finally, his head was once more spinning with confusion.

 

William had even before that incident known that he was attracted to Yami, that he wanted to, despite how foolish it was considering his situation and plans, at least give being more than sort-of-friends a try.

But both his knowledge of what he would do in the future and his worry of being rejected stopped him from actually questioning Yami’s actions to the man in question. So he refrained from confronting him at all, even though each time he saw the man his heart started to pound harder in his chest. He was glad for his mask; knowing that it at least partially concealed his expressions made it easier to hide away the rest of them. The thought of how badly Yami would take his betrayal was also a sobering thought, doing a lot to keep his mind in order and thoughts controlled for the most part.

 

Even before Yami had mysteriously kissed him out of nowhere, William had been attracted to him. But he didn’t know when exactly he had started to be attracted to Yami. It was something that must have surely happened over time, perhaps even starting from the moment that they met, growing in strength until one day, it suddenly dawned on him with the power to cause an ache in his chest. He thought many times, that things would have been so much easier if he had never realized it. Patri noticed the distress that he initially felt when he came to his realization, but there was not much that his dear friend could do, and Patri was not particularly experienced in the field of romance or romantic feelings either, just as William wasn’t familiar with such things. At least the presence of him was comforting, and though Patri didn’t understand what William saw in Yami—and neither did William, to be honest, he had yet to figure that part out—it was soothing to know that he could confide in someone who would take him seriously. Patri’s presence was invaluable. Because when sharing a body and knowing each other so intimately, it was impossible _not_ to take him for his word. Perhaps Lord Julius would have, and he possibly even would have supported him; after all, Yami was Julius’ protegé as well, in a sense. But William was not about to tell him; it was simply for the best not to. But everyone else, particularly the members of his own troops and any royals, would surely take his words as a joke, or treat him like a fool. It was better to keep it a secret close to shared heart.

 

 

Whenever Yami was around, William was always hyper-aware of him. He could always tell when the man was watching him, his skin prickling in a way different from when others watched him. He thought that he had been accustomed to being watched. After all, first his face, then his helmet, and then his position, drew people’s attention toward him. Many had a tendency to watch him, either scorning him for the scar above his cheeks, or searching for his secrets beneath the mask covering the ugly mark. Yami’s gaze was more lazy, a glance as he smoked his cigarette, a brush against his skin during captain’s meetings as they sat next to each other. Torturously often, they ended seated so close. Surely the looks Yami turned his way held some level of similarity as the gazes usually directed at him, but though they were lazy things, sort of akin to the gazes of a cat, they seemed to cause his skin to burn in a way others gazes didn’t. It was a light burn, just the glance of a quiet fire, the slip of cool water, a shadow flickering past. But it was enough. More than enough. He shouldn’t be as aware of those gazes as he was. And yet he was, and after that kiss it only got worse. His hands faltering for the fraction of a second, a slight stutter on a word. It was only little things, which nobody else seemed to take notice of, but William certainly did, and he would berate himself for his nervosity for the year that it lasted.

 

There was something in the way Yami said his name.

Yami had lived in Clover for several years by the time that the two of them met for the first time, but he still had a bit of a foreign accent. It had never entirely disappeared, but it was much less noticeable these days. But particularly back then, when they first became acquainted, his accent had been evident.

William had put it down to simply being a result of the unusual way that the accent made his name sound on the tongue of a foreigner, the way that his ears seemed to prickle with attention, seeking it out, hoping to hear it again.

It was on one of those rare occasions when Yami called him by his given name, rather than by the name of the family that didn’t actually care for him, that he felt his body burn, warmed by an unfamiliar sensation that he couldn’t put a name to then.

 

 

He had not instantly recognized what those feelings were. After all, nobody had taught him about it. He had been abandoned as a child, shunned for the curse, which was hardly a gesture of love, and he had been beaten and scorned when he was taken in, constantly reminded that had they had a choice, he would not have been there. He wouldn’t have been their second choice if there had been any other options.

He had feared the day when his father would have a new, legitimate son to take back the position that William never truly had earned, and at the same time he had hoped for it. He had been miserable living on the street too, but at least he could avoid the daily abuse from his so-called family.

Even before then he had been treated unkindly by others as well because of his face, but it was different, much more painful, to be told that he was a freak and deserved to be abandoned to die by people meant to care for him than it was to be laughed at by cruel children who didn’t know any better, because they had been taught to treat what was different with that cruelty.

 

Yami had not laughed, had not scorned. He did wear that complicated face—shock, confusion, so many mixed emotions—the one that everyone who saw his face would get when they initially saw it, but it didn’t transform into any cruel sneer or cold, ugly laughter. Perhaps it was because Yami was different too, perhaps it was simply a form of kindness that he didn’t share with many others William had met. Either way, he was grateful for the man, and would not regret allowing the man to see it.

By then he had already been aware of his feelings for some time, and it was a relief to not have those feelings shattered into a million pieces with a look, a sneer, a laugh, a cruel word. And he thought that maybe it was partially this that made him feel that strange attraction toward him.

Revealing his face to Yami and not being rejected was a weight lifted off his shoulders. He was deceiving him still and he felt regretful about that, but it ultimately lead way to something new, something brief that was ruined because of the choice that he had made long before his feelings for Yami became apparent to him.

 

The scent of cigarette smoke always made William search with his gaze, with the sense of his mana, before he knew it, even as he sometimes realized that there was no way that Yami was in his vicinity; his father and step-mother would never allow a man like Yami into their home, they would rather burn it to the ground before that happened.

He was always filled by a sense of disappointment, when that thought came to his mind. What was he expecting? For a grumbling, annoyed voice to cut off his step-mother’s venomous rants that still made him feel small and insignificant and a hand to grasp his wrist to pull him out of there, out to freedom, away from the prison that was his father’s home? Yami was not the type to swoop in to purposefully save someone, and he would have no reason to step into House Vangeance’s mansion even by accident.

Family- family was such a difficult concept for him, one that had never felt truly right. And observing others, from his own vice captain and his inferiority complex toward his older brother’s unconditional love, to the Red Lion Vermillions respect for each other, to the chilly protectiveness of the Silvas- none of it helped him in any way. Family, to William, was agony, was a cage he was unable to completely escape from.

Would Yami even understand? How a man of William’s age and position still cowered underneath the gaze of a sharp-tongued woman lashing abuse over him, how he was unable to stand up for himself? He just wanted to disappear, when he thought about that. As if it wasn’t enough that his step-mother’s words would make him want to curl up in a corner and simply stop breathing.

 

Sometimes, they would coincidentally cross paths when reporting in to Lord Julius.

Sometimes one would arrive as the other was leaving, sometimes they would wait outside the audience chamber together, as Lord Julius spoke to someone else. On an occasion, Yami had played with the feathers on William’s helmet, and William had been tense, worrying that he would pull the helmet off. When he had asked what he was up to, Yami had said _Nothing in particular_ , had continued fiddling with the feathers, for a little while. After a while, Yami let go of the feathers and stuffed his hand in a pocket. If he noticed how tense William was or not, he still didn’t know even to this day. It was more likely that he got bored. It wasn’t the first time that he had reminded William of a lazy cat.

 

Sometimes, Yami would get very close.

William wondered sometimes if he did so just because the sudden closeness startled William. Yami did not seem bothered by it.

One time, when Yami had been leaning over his shoulder to read some papers in William’s hands and William had turned around to push Yami a step away, William’s hand had come in contact with Yami’s skin and stubbled cheek. The back of William’s hand still felt the burn of the friction when he remembered the brief incident.

Another time he had attempted to push Yami a few steps back with a hand to his chest. He had been utterly unsuccessful thanks to the discrepancy in their physical strength, but the sensation of Yami’s muscles through his shirt was etched into William’s palm for all eternity.

Since then he had been the one to step away, instead of attempting to make Yami widen the space between them. Was it giving in to the other man? Was it respecting his own personal space and nothing more? Yami’s presence was so prevalent, that personal space became utterly meaningless when he was in the same room.

 

The first time was after returning from the border.

Perhaps it was because Yami could sense his relief, that he was a little more relaxed around him. William had never been particularly tense around Yami even after the sudden kiss that he still had received no explanation for, so long as there was no threat that he wouldn’t suddenly pull his helmet off, or he wasn’t standing so close that he could feel his body heat emanating off of him. But he had still become more relaxed in the knowledge that Yami wouldn’t scorn him.

Lord Julius had remarked that William seemed happy, had asked if something good happened. William had not been able to control his face entirely when he said that he supposed so, the slight smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth wider than his usually polite expression. He didn’t elaborate, but he could feel Yami’s gaze on him nonetheless.

After they left the audience chamber William had found himself looking up, meeting Yami’s gaze and his back pressing against the wall in an empty corridor. Yami had pulled him to the side, and was looking at him with a gaze and expression that felt unfamiliar to William. He had never seen it before, had only ever known a limited amount of expressions turned toward him. “Is there something wrong, Yami?” William had asked softly, a little concerned with the sudden close proximity, and the way that he was almost trapped against the wall.

Idly, Yami scratched his stubbled chin, eyes never leaving William’s face. “I knew you can make some pretty smiles, but that one was new. Something good happened, huh?” William’s face had flushed, and he had reason to be grateful for the helmet that hid it, at least for the most part.

His gaze flickered down, breaking contact with Yami’s, and perhaps that was what betrayed him. Perhaps it was the way his lips twitched, awkwardly pressing together. 

 

He clung to Yami like his life depended on in, or perhaps it was his sanity that he felt might be slipping, his determination. It was only a matter of time before Patri and Lord Julius would meet, and he had worried that the knowledge would make it difficult to savour the feeling of Yami’s touches.

But he melted into the calloused hands, felt his skin burn with the brush of stubble and lips, the desire-filled murmur of the other man’s name never far from his lips. How long had he wanted this? He had often wished that he wasn’t aware of his own feelings, but he was unable to deny them.

Perhaps even before he realized exactly what his feelings were, he wanted to be held in this fashion, bare and open and drowning in each touch, calloused palms, solid body, warm, sweaty skin and expressions unobscured.

 

When the day he slipped his helmet off and let Patri take over, he was sure that he didn’t want to see Yami’s reaction, no matter the result of the fight.

Once the fight had ended, and Lord Julius lay bleeding on the ground at their—his and Patri’s—feet, he could ascertain that he would have preferred not to have been seen like this by him. But there was nothing that he could do about it, and from where he watched at the back of their shared mind, his heart breaking with the pain of the sight, William shed tears for Julius, and for the end of a perhaps-romance that had barely started, the pain of losing two people important to him pressing against him, causing him to finally retreat far, far back where he wouldn’t have to see or think about what was going on, at least for a little while, until it was time for him to hide away completely.


End file.
